


Morris Glen

by Hey_Tay



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 11:03:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20406667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hey_Tay/pseuds/Hey_Tay
Summary: First time to publish any sort of creative writing. Mostly doing this as a creative outlet but if anyone likes this it will probably encourage me not to abandon it. Let me know if you wanna see more!





	Morris Glen

The air is thick and heavy, weighing you down like a guilty conscience. Each breath harder than the last, the humid air fills your lungs like water. You pray to any god you can think of for the respite of a gentle breeze as beads of sweat trickle down your face and back. Your clothes cling to your skin.

The symphony of cicadas grows louder and louder in your ears, almost as if getting closer. The sound grows cacophonous, drowning out your own thoughts, replaced only with the cries of the cicadas.

Your eyes burn as the sun beats down on you. Your wrists itch from the ropes tied just too tight. You weren't going to run. Of course not. You know what must be done. Still, your heart races. It is only natural to be afraid.

You think of the smiling faces of the townsfolk, proud for you. The rough hands clapping congratulations on your back. Or was it pity? 

You remember the tears in your mother's eyes. And the smile on her face.

-

The ground is hot and dry beneath you. You think they could have at least sat you within the treeline beneath the shade, but you know this must be the spot. It has always been the spot. The earth here is red.

Flies buzz around you. You can see small swarms of them in the distance. Gnats swirling like a small tornado. A dragonfly whizzes by in a hurry. It doesn't want to get caught here with you. It knows what will happen. What has always happened.

You do not know how long you have sat here or how much longer you will. Hours? Days? Must you starve? Or die of thirst?

Your lips are dry. You try to wet them but your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth. Any ounce of moisture your body once had now resides in the thin fabric of your shirt, quickly evaporating in the unforgiving sun.

Too long the days have been like this. Too long without rain, without even so much as a cloud for shade. Too long has it been, so now it must be your turn. You knew it must be one day, as it must be everyone's eventually.

You try not to complain, you know it won't do any good and you should be grateful. You think, instead, of those faces, the ones telling you goodbye, and how happy they will be. How their smiles will be even greater than when they bid you farewell.

The sound of cicadas fades into white noise. You hear it and you hear nothing. You only take in your surroundings. The dead trees, the dried grass, the crackled, scorched earth.

Closer to the water's edge there is more green life, but here there is only death.

"Mais la," you hear a voice before you. Suddenly a cool breeze tickles across your skin. You take a deep breath, your lungs cooled and refreshed.

A shadow falls across your face for the first time in a long time. You blink hard, eyes watered. You see a dark cloud creep in front of the sun. Fat and heavy, pregnant with rain.

You turn and find the source of the voice. You knew she would come but still you are surprised. She seems younger than she should. Impossibly so.

She seems unfettered by the sweltering heat. Heavy skirts hang long to the ground, torn and tattered at the bottom, dragging along for who knows how many years. Jewelry adorns her everywhere, fingers and wrists, neck and ears, even in her nose. No one at home can afford such things but these things look old. The gold worn, the style foriegn but still shining brilliantly in the sunlight. The jewels around her neck sparkle, almost hypnotically.

Her breasts barely contained in the thin fabric of her blouse, almost as if wearing it were an afterthought. She bends down to meet your face, her blouse falling away from her. She doesn't seem to care. Or notice.

She raises your chin with one finger, smiling as she examines you. 

Your heart begins to pound, though you know you mustn't be afraid. You are honored. You must be.

"Mais la," she says again. The same cool breeze dances across your face. Her breath. She is the source. Now you understand. You smile.

"Pauvre bete," she whispers. "T'es dans la merde," she laughs as she pulls you into a deep kiss.

Her tongue washes over yours, reviving your body like a long drink of water. Your body suddenly alert and hungry you stretch for her. You want her. You need her.

Hungry, so hungry.

She laughs as she pulls the clothes from her body. The ropes around your wrists suddenly gone you pull the clothes from your own. 

She smiles as she embraces you, the warmth of her bosom a blessing. The salt of her skin all the nourishment you require. You lap up as much of it as you can while you writhe in the dirt. 

Or is that grass? Soft and lush as she is. Where once there was red, there is now green.

You take no care of this. You are hers. You are here to please her. To be of use to her. It is the only thing. It is why you exist. For her. 

She continues to laugh as you buck in rhythm, louder and louder until you hear nothing else. She is like the cicadas in the trees. She occupies your every thought. 

"Ne t'inquiète pas," she breathes into your ear.

You feel the most brilliantly cool touch at your throat as she smiles down at you.

You hear only the cicadas.

**Author's Note:**

> First time to publish any sort of creative writing. Mostly doing this as a creative outlet but if anyone likes this it will probably encourage me not to abandon it. Let me know if you wanna see more!


End file.
